


Steer

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Pilot Spock suffers navigator Kirk.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 19
Kudos: 122





	Steer

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Long range sensors indicate the planet past the gravitational anomalies is Class M,” Commander Sulu reports from the science console, straightening up and folding his arms behind his back. He glances towards their captain, and Chekov’s already facing him, waiting for the report. 

Spock’s eyes never leave the viewscreen, but he can see enough in his peripherals to catch the captain nodding. Chekov mutters in his native tongue, just low enough to keep the bridge’s built in Universal Translator from converting it, “ _Interesting._ ”

Spock is fluent in Old Russian, of course. He made sure to brush up on it as soon as he realized he’d be assigned to a ship with a bizarrely patriotic captain. He also made a point of learning Modern Japanese to match the first officer, as well as several other Terran dialects, even though everyone aboard the Enterprise is perfectly capable of conversing in Federation Standard. If Spock’s ever going to be a first officer on his own ship, he’ll need to continue going above and beyond. 

Chekov barks in his usual thick accent, “Take us in, helm.”

Spock’s hands adjust across the controls, ready to move the Enterprise forward. Sulu relays, “Feeding the sensor information to Ensign Kirk’s navigation console now, Sir.”

Jim’s head tilts down, eyes skimming the screen. Spock patiently waits for the results, and sure enough, mere milliseconds later, he’s told _Gently take her forward, Lieutenant._

Spock’s eyebrow lifts. He knows Jim can see it. He waits for the specific coordinates and/or distance to come, but nothing follows up. When he glances over, Jim shoots him a low, subtle grin that Spock quickly looks away from. Rather than trouble the captain with their unusual communication patterns, Spock taps back, _‘Gently’?_ It’s hardly a common navigational term. Jim reads it and swiftly types back: 

_Slow and steady, Spock. I’ll tell you when those talented fingers of yours should speed up. When it’s time to go hard._

Spock’s stomach drops. He thinks but doesn’t type: _Oh no._ Not now. That grin grows in the corner of his eye: a giant, troublesome, intoxicating beacon of all the things Spock tries so hard to reject. He knows they have voice command for a reason but doesn’t dare speak or even turn his head, lest the captain realize what’s going on. 

He’s going to have some very choice words for Jim when their shift ends. In the meantime, he contemplates how best to convey sternness with only the written word. 

Chekov pipes in, “Gentlemen...?”

“Sorry, Sir,” Jim answers for both of them. “The field distortions ahead require some tricky work here... Spock?” Spock’s console flashes: _Hard to port._

Spock’s trained to react at a moment’s notice, to take the impressive weight of a starship and flip it on its head if need be—minefields can present themselves suddenly and sporadically in the depths of deep space. Spock assumes one of the anomalies has expanded towards them and jerks the ship around accordingly—the bridge stutters with the harsh movement. 

“Whoa!” the captain exclaims, gripping the armrests of his seat. Sulu’s fallen over his console. Commander Uhura had wandered over to Lieutenant Scott’s communications panel but winds up half over the railing. Chekov scolds, “Keep it easy, Meester Spock!”

_I meant after we move ahead five parsecs, but good to know you can go that hard that fast. You know I love it when you show that Vulcan strength of yours._

Spock doesn’t glare at the screen, because Vulcans don’t glare. Half-Vulcans at least try not to.

Jim is a constant test of his patience. Jim’s also the best navigator in the fleet and will probably make captain in record time. Spock just prays he doesn’t wind up on the same ship.

_Quarter-turn around this next one; the sensors show its gravitational pull is already sucking at us. And as much as I love being sucked with you next to me—_

Spock stops reading and shuts off his screen. He clears his throat and betrays his people—sometimes, half-Vulcans must lie. “It appears the navigational console is experiencing a series of malfunctions. We will have to plot the course verbally.”

Chekov mutters something about the incompetence of the base they just left that supposedly gave the entire bridge an overhaul. Their chief engineer automatically flitters over to start checking the console—Spock hurriedly wipes the recent logs before Uhura’s deft fingers can summon their dialogue. Jim shoots Spock a withering look that he steadfast ignores. 

With a defeated sigh, Jim announces, “Seven parsecs northeast, to seven-zero-one-eight...”

Spock lets the blessedly simple numbers roll over him and follows his t’hy’la’s instructions.


End file.
